Read to your childrenTwenty minutes a day;You have the time,And so do they.Read while the laundry is in the machine;Read while the dinner cooks;Tuck a child in the crook of your armAnd reach for the l...
Anybody who thinks small towns are friendlier than big cities lives in a big city.
A Seth Thomas steeple clock stood on a high shelf. When it struck ten, Grandma jerked awake. She looked around the room astonished. It was her belief that she never slept, not even in bed.
If you cannot find yourself on the page very early in life, you will go looking for yourself in all the wrong places.
The years went by, and Mary Alice and I grew up, Slower than we wanted to, faster than we realized.
So there is some justice in this world, though not a lot.
Never trust an ugly woman. She's got a grudge against the world,' said Grandma who was no oil painting herself.
I don’t think grandma’s a very good influence on us.
Grandma, how old is she?Oh I don't know. Grandma said. You'd have to cut off her head and count the rings in her neck.
This was something Grandma Tilly couldn't understand---how war promises a boy it can make a man out of him.
Nobody but a reader becomes a writer.
I caught a glimpse of happiness, and saw it was a bird on a branch, fixing to take wing.
The sobs came then, faster than she could swallow. A teacher dares not cry, not a real teacher.
She said that time was like the Mississippi River. It only flows in one direction. She meant you could never go back. But of course we had. She'd taken me back.
That's the way people is who ain't goin' anyplace in life theirselves. They don't want you goin' anyplace either.
I read because one life isn't enough, and in the page of a book I can be anybody;I read because the words that build the story become mine, to build my life;I read not for happy endings but for new be...
But later when I was a teacher, an English teacher naturally, my students preferred fiction to reality. They were in junior high, and so they preferred ANYTHING to reality.
We write by the light of every story we have ever read.
Then a lady flounced up and perched on the seat opposite. She had a full bird on the wing sewn to the crown of her hat, and she was painted up like a circus pony, so we took her to be from Chicago.
I seen but little of this world,Except my corner of it;The city never drew me,For I knew I could not love it.What I loved best was watchingThe garden getting ripeAnd a pouch of sweet tobaccoAnd my old...